


Things, Things, I've Got so Many Things to Say

by Notasmuch



Series: Wee!chesters [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:46:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men certainly didn't cuddle their baby brothers and tell them they loved them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things, Things, I've Got so Many Things to Say

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is 7, Dean is 11

Dean knew his mother used to say it.  
Like he knew the sky was blue and the rain was wet - his mother loved him, hugged him, kissed him and said it loudly and often: "I love you."  
He didn't remember his dad ever saying it, but he must have, Before.

When he was a kid he used to lay down next to Sam, hug him and whisper stories into Sam's hair. Slain dragons and hidden candy, heroes and happy endings. Sometimes he whispered "I love you, Sammy," and kissed the baby's soft cheek, and every now and then Sam would smile at him, like he thought it back.

But that was before. Dean was older now, he had responsibilities. He was a man. Men didn't hug, or talk about "feelings" and "issues." They solved problems and shut up about it. Men certainly didn't cuddle their baby brothers and tell them they loved them.

Sam had to learn that too, even though he was still just a kid. He had to understand that sometimes things just were the way they were and there was no use crying over it.

Dean went over those facts over and over in his head as he rolled his clothes and stuffed them into the duffel. It helped him ignore Sam's quiet sniffs and helpless thumps as he beat the clothes to fit into his own bag.

This time Sam didn't even ask why they had to go, and at first Dean was grateful because that was one conversation that was getting old pretty fast, but somehow this miserable acceptance was even worse, like Sam just stopped fighting all together.

Dean closed the duffel and turned away from his bed to finally look at Sam and ask if he was done. His heart seemed to clench and then explode at the sight of his brother's wet face and shaky shoulders.

Sam always made friends he had to leave behind, always adopted some alley cat he had to give up, always hoped, at least a little, the next place would be it, the one that made Dad say "we're staying!" Dean knew better, but he wanted Sam to keep that hope for a while longer, to be a kid for as long as he could. And it was Dean's job to make sure Sam was doing well.  
So if he couldn't comfort his brother, who would?

He reached out and put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy."

Sam leaned into him and nodded and they stood there for a long time, waiting for Sam's shaking to stop, listening to Dad mumble nervously in the next room.

Then something fell, Dad started cursing, Sam laughed and Dean relaxed.

When they were set to go Sam just got in the car; didn't even look back miserably at the ugly motel. Dean was as proud as he was sad. Every time he saw Sam change, he hated it a little, the knowledge he might not always be there, and Sam had to learn about real life.

He looked at Sam as they drove out of town. The skin around his eyes was still puffy and his nose red. Dean wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him his big brother loved him and would always be there for him and monsters would never get him.

He couldn't do that though, so he turned away and looked out the window until he was sure Sam was asleep.

But some hours later, at the first stop, he gave Sam a piece of his pie and Sam looked at him like maybe he knew it meant "I love you."


End file.
